


Kelowna: Become Human

by LadyJanelly



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Hockey RPF
Genre: AU for D:BH in that the Cyberlife lobbyists got to Canada too, Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, M/M, Robots And Androids, attempted non-con (not Jamie), canon-typical misgendering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanelly/pseuds/LadyJanelly
Summary: What better way is there for a professional hockey team to make sure their prospects can focus on getting NHL ready, than buying them their very own android?





	Kelowna: Become Human

The AP700 is a gift from the Stars. Not a signing bonus, because they aren’t signing Jamie, despite drafting him. They want him to stay in the minors, to play for Kelowna for a season or two, to ‘mature his game’ and ‘get into NHL shape.’

The AP700 is a gift, and not a ridiculously expensive one—cheaper than a new low-price car, but accepting it puts him out of qualifying to play in the NCAA.

Accepting the gift is closing a door, except not really, because doors can be re-opened, even if they’re locked. This is more like filling the corridor with cement and watching it dry. One game in the WHL is just as final, though.

“Hi, I’m Tyler, I’m so glad to meet you,” the machine says when the Benns go to inspect it at the store, to make the decision. The LED at its temple swirls a soothing blue. Its smile is welcoming, its eyes brown and warm.

Jordie can’t come to Kelowna with him, not yet at least, not without taking a year off of playing and risking his own future. His parents can’t take a year off of work, or Jenny off of school.

There’s a reason Jamie had never put himself in the Major Junior draft—too afraid of being drafted away from home, too afraid of being alone at some billet family’s house. What if they don’t like him? What if they don’t get along?

The AP will never leave him, never make fun of his weight or his hair. It’ll never have friends who are cooler than Jamie or get mad that Jamie is better than it at hockey.

“I’m glad to meet you too,” Jamie says, feeling funny saying it to a walking computer, but he can’t be rude with his mom _right there_.

Tyler doesn’t seem like it would have noticed the social faux pas. It blinks placidly. It would be a good-looking guy, if it was a person. A few inches shorter than Jamie, slim but solid. It has the same sharp jaw, the same high cheekbones, the same dimple in its chin as the half-dozen others of it’s model that are in the showroom.

 

“How do I accept this thing?” he asks the Cyberlife sales rep who is standing beside the AP.

“State your name and say that you accept the gift. It’ll be locked to your voice then, your prompts automatically put at the top of its queue.”

Jamie nods and licks his lips.

“I’m Jamie Benn and I accept this gift from the Dallas Stars.”

He wonders if he should have used his full legal name, if it matters.

Tyler blinks and somehow its focus on Jamie becomes tighter.

“Hi, Jamie. I’m ready to go when you are.”

Jamie’s parents murmur between themselves. Jamie is glad neither of his siblings could come—they’d tease him for this shit forever.

“The car is this way,” Dad says, and Tyler looks to Jamie for confirmation. Jamie gives a little tic of his head. Tyler picks up one small case of accessories and follows his parents towards the parking lot.

Jamie lingers back a step, and he can’t help the way his eyes glance over Tyler’s shoulders, its trim waist, its tight butt.

Admiring Tyler is like admiring Michelangelo’s David, right? Both were designed to be perfect. Nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s not sure why his face feels so warm.

=======

“So, Tyler, tell us about where you’re from,” Dad says as they get settled in the car. Jamie fights back a groan.

“I’m from factory 143 in Boston,” it says. Jamie knows from TV shows that android voices aren’t flat, but he’s never heard one talk in person before—there’s a fluctuation in tone that’s even more _people_ than people’s. Like a voice actor reading kids’ books.

Tyler gazes out the window, taking in the Saanich sights, such as they are.

It treats the Benn home with the same bland curiosity when they arrive, as Jamie points out the important parts of the house.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Tyler asks.

“Uh, no, not right now,” Jamie says, and goes and hides in his room.

Mom calls him for lunch an hour later, a scolding look in her eye as he slinks to the kitchen table.

“Tyler cooked for us,” she says, which makes sense since Tyler is bringing over dishes of food, serving them out onto the family’s plates. “At least I won’t have to worry about you starving out there in Kelowna,” Mom says.

“I have four-thousand, six-hundred and thirteen recipes that are approved for the nutrition needs of a professional athlete,” the android adds as it steps back, ready to go fetch anything that’s missing from the meal.

“What else you can do?” Dad asks, like that’s a normal thing.

“I can procure appropriate household goods and groceries, maintain a monthly budget, cook, clean, provide after-care for a variety of injury types and operate a wide array of motor vehicles.”

“Well, I’m out of a job,” Mom jokes.

“Can you drive a zamboni?” Jamie asks and Tyler’s face lights up like that’s the most interesting question it’s ever heard. Maybe it is.

 

=========

“Can you skate?” Jamie asks on the long ride to Kelowna. The apartment the team provides is supposed to be furnished, so he’s just got his clothes, gear and personal stuff in the back of his truck.

It just seemed like it made sense for Tyler to drive. Not like it gets tired.

“I haven’t needed to skate yet,” Tyler answers.

“But could you?”

“Sure, Jamie. I just need to download the subroutine. Should I do that?”

“No, that’s. That’s fine.”

Tyler glances away from the road, smiles at Jamie like that was the right answer.

=======

It feels weird to leave Tyler unpacking Jamie’s boxes and putting his apartment into order while Jamie goes to meet the rest of the team at the all-you-can-eat pizza place the team management rented out for them.

He likes the guys. Most of them are younger than him, and only a few are older. Two of the guys his age room together, and everybody younger has a billet family.

When the evening starts to wrap up, he goes to the bathroom and sends a text:

_Is the apartment done?_

He wonders if that’s too vague, if the android will know what he means.

_It is, Jamie. The grocery delivery has arrived and been put away. The moving boxes are unpacked and everything in its place._

_I’m bringing friends home,_ he texts back, cringing. He shouldn’t feel like an asshole to say it instead of asking. Tyler is just an appliance, like a microwave that does more than cook. He wouldn’t ask the vacuum if he could bring people to his own apartment.

 _I’m so glad to hear that, Jamie_ Tyler replies.

Jamie’s not sure if he should tell Tyler to go hide in Jamie’s room or something. Not sure if some of the other drafted guys were given androids by their teams too, or if he’s special that way.

=========

“Holy shit, did you bring your mom?” one of the new team, Tyson, crows as Jamie opens the door and leads them in.

The apartment is small, but it’s almost uncomfortably clean and organized, the boxes emptied and removed, everything sitting just-so in a tidy and logical spot. The X-box is running, the start-screen for CoD playing on the TV.

Tyler is standing in the space of the open-plan room that’s not quite kitchen, but also not living room. Its hands are clasped behind his back and a pleasant smile on its face.

“Welcome home, Jamie,” it says, like the others aren’t there.

“What the fuck?” Bryce doesn’t sound offended. Bryce sounds gleeful. He goes right up to Tyler, up in its face. “Where the hell did you get this, Benn?”

Bryce pokes Tyler’s cheek and Jamie frowns.

“Leave it alone.”

Bryce ignores him, brushes his fingertips over Tyler’s eyelashes so it blinks. Blinks but doesn’t jerk away, doesn’t defend itself as Bryce puts his fingertip on its eyeball.

“Hey!” Jamie barks, grabs him and shoves him back. “I said leave it alone. It’s expensive. And delicate. You’re gonna fuck it up.”

“Sorry,” Bryce laughs, raising his hands in mock-surrender. “I won’t mess with it. Where’d you get it? I saw your truck. I didn’t think your family had that kind of money.”

“The Stars got it for me,” Jamie mutters, wondering why he feels so damn embarrassed.

“Why’s it a dude?” Tyson wonders aloud.

“It just is,” Jamie answers. “I didn’t pick it out.”

“Does it have a dick?” Bryce has circled behind Jamie.

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “I’m not gonna look.”

“They should have given you a girl one so you wouldn’t get distracted by puck bunnies.” Tyson is definitely not helping, but he doesn’t seem to have the same malicious glee as Bryce, just dumb curiosity.

“Does it have nipples?” Bryce gropes at Tyler’s chest.

Jamie grabs him again, shoves harder this time.

“What, I’m not hurting it,” Bryce objects.

“Can we play some fucking X-box and leave the damn android alone?”

Bryce looks Jamie up and down, glances over at Tyler. Hides a sly grin like he knows something. “Sure Jamie, we can do that. Can your robot bring snacks, or is it just pretty?”

Jamie glances at Tyler, and Tyler is already moving towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you food,” Tyler reassures him. “It’ll be about eight minutes.”

=========

“Welcome home, Jamie,” Tyler greets him. It’s near midnight, the roadie from hell is finally over, after a seven-hour bus ride home and a half-hour drive from the practice facility where his truck had been.

The apartment smells like food, the meaty smell of steak, fresh-baked bread.

“Would you like to eat at the table or on the couch?” Tyler asks. It doesn’t look tired, doesn’t look put out to be up in the middle of the night cooking so that Jamie doesn’t go to bed hungry.

“Couch. I’m just gonna wash up first.” He heads for the kitchen sink, and Tyler definitely isn’t in his way. He must stumble or something, because he brushes against Tyler as he goes. He doesn’t _stop_ , but he slows, leans his weight against Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler’s hand comes up, rests lightly against the back of Jamie’s neck, and if Jamie lets himself he’ll grab onto Tyler from pure exhaustion. It would be weird. Jamie thinks it would be weird.

He takes a deeper breath and continues on to the sink.

==========

Jamie doesn’t know what Tyler could still have to work on—the apartment is spotless. It washed and put away the dishes while Jamie ate, and still it’s puttering around, looking busy when there’s no busy _left._

“C’mere,” Jamie groans. He’s got tape to watch and Tyler’s fussing around is distracting. He pauses the playback. “Sit and quit moving around.”

Tyler comes over, perches on the edge of the couch where Jamie points. Jamie groans and nods for it to sit like a regular person and it settles back into the cushions a little more.

Jamie re-starts the recording. It’s their last game against the Wheat Kings. Coach told him to look at their zone entries, how they can tighten it up without ending up off-side.

He watches for about an hour, Tyler still and silent next to him, its LED a low steady blue at its temple.

“I’m putting on a movie,” Jamie announces.

“Should I return to work, Jamie?” Tyler asks.

Jamie hesitates. There’s no point in keeping Tyler here. It clearly isn’t enjoying the screen time any more or less than it would like cleaning the toilet.

Jamie pulls up the video menu and picks out The Princess Bride. “Nah, stay. It’s more fun with someone to watch with me.”

Tyler cocks its head at him, but doesn’t comment.

==========

“Hi, Jamie, welcome home. I picked up your dry-cleaning and took the truck for an oil-change and car-wash today.”

Tyson had wanted to drive, and he follows Jamie in when he brings him back to the apartment.

“Damn, I gotta get me one of these,” Tyson says from behind me. “Think I could talk the Avs into springing for one?”

“How should I know?” Jamie asks. Not like he understands why the Stars gave it to him.

======

“You okay to drive?” Coach asks him when everybody is dressed and leaving the locker room.

Jamie nods but doesn’t meet his eyes. Fuck. It wasn’t his fault. Everybody’s telling him it wasn’t his fault, but Jamie can still feel the crunch of the other team’s right-winger between Jamie and the glass, can see the shock in the kid’s eyes as his knee had bent a way it wasn’t supposed to.

He goes over the play again and again in his head. It was a good hit. Well inside of the rules. Not his fault the guy had his head down. Not his fault he’d gone screaming to the ice as Jamie pulled away.

“Hi Jamie, welcome home.”

Tyler has dinner cooked, ready to serve.

“I’m not hungry,” Jamie mutters. He wants…he just wants to be left alone.

“Hey, are you hurt?” Tyler asks, ducking to try to see Jamie’s face.

“I’m good,” Jamie says, shaking his head.

Tyler’s LED spins yellow for a moment. “Come watch a movie then. Maybe you’ll be hungry later.”

It’s easier to do as he’s told than to fight it, so Jamie goes, sprawls himself on the couch. Tyler joins him without being told to, takes the remote from the coffee table and scrolls through the options. The ethereal opening music from Lord of the Rings fills the speakers and Jamie slouches down.

It’s late.

He should go to bed.

He put a guy in the hospital tonight, and it doesn’t feel good at all.

Tyler settles back on the couch, closer than it usually sits. Convenient, for Jamie to lean in against. After a few seconds Tyler begins to simulate breathing, slow and steady.

Jamie closes his eyes. It’s awkward to slide down, weird to put his head in Tyler’s lap. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about anything.

After a moment, Tyler’s fingers begin to comb through his hair, and Jamie allows himself to rest, just for a little while.

==========

“…Cyberlife CEO had this to say about the recent malfunctions:”

“…we understand that these allegations are serious and newsworthy, but instances of deviance in Cyberlife products is exceptionally rare, and events where a human was harmed or killed even more so. We have put every possible precaution into making a safe and affordable product to help all—”

Coach turns off his radio as the guys file into the locker room.

“Okay boys, we’ve got a lot to work on today…”

======

“Are you bringing Tyler home for Jenny’s birthday?”

It…never occurred to Jamie to leave it behind. He imagines making the drive alone, leaving Tyler silent and still on his docking station.

“I was planning to.”

“Good!” Mom’s voice is bright. “Can you ask it to download a gift-wrap program? Oh, and maybe some recipes that aren’t exactly dietitian-approved?”

“Yeah. I’ll ask what’s available.”

===========

Jamie’s avatar blows the head off of another faceless enemy. Tyson is catching up to his score and Jamie hits the fire button again, misses, damn it.

“Tyler! Beer me!” Bryce calls from behind the couch.

“I’m sorry, Bryce, I cannot provide alcohol to anyone underage.”

“Get it my fucking self,” Bryce grumbles, and Jamie takes the lead in points.

==========

“Hey, drive me to the rink.”

Tyler blinks from its charging station. “You’re scratched, Jamie,” the android reminds him, LED swirling yellow. Like Jamie could forget the sling on his arm. “Also, the team is in Everett.”

“I didn’t ask where the team was,” Jamie snaps. Being injured is bad for his mood. He takes a breath and calms himself. “It’s a tweaked shoulder, not a broken leg.”

Tyler’s LED goes yellow, just for a moment, then back to blue.

“Of course, Jamie.” It steps away from the wireless charger and gets the keys off of the coffee table. If they go now, they should have a rink to themselves for an hour or so.

Jamie grabs his coat and follows along. Tyler doesn’t need a jacket of course, but Jamie shivers at the sight of snowflakes falling on the thin cloth of the Cyberlife uniform.

They get to the rink, and Jamie hadn’t considered how he’s supposed to lace up with one good arm, but Tyler kneels at his feet before he can even consider the problem. Its movements are quick, efficient, as fast as any of the team could do it.

“How long would it take for you to get that skating program?”

Tyler looks up at him, the familiar mild smile on its lips. It blinks once, slowly. “Download complete.”

=========

It’s not a full check. Jamie’s not an asshole, okay? He’s. He’s not. Tyler’s just so smooth on the ice, stepping in the gate and hitting its stride right away like it’s been doing it all his life.

Jamie feels like a cow on skates next to him. It. Tyler shifts from skating forwards to backwards effortlessly, as smooth on hockey skates as any figure skater that Jamie’s seen. It smiles, and despite how much Jamie envies the machine’s grace and beauty, Jamie is smiling too.

“Showoff,” Jamie teases, and bumps Tyler’s hip with his own as they pass close to each other.

He should have asked. Should have made sure the program Tyler downloaded had more than _just_ moving upright on skates. Like how to take a check. Like what to do if the other person on the ice fucks up. How to fucking fall.

It’s like it happens in slow motion. Tyler’s bland smile never falters, but its eyes go wide, the LED glowing like an ember on his temple. It tumbles back and fucking _puts his hand behind himself_ like that’ll help, like it could possibly catch himself.

The arm snaps like a stick, broken white plastic and shreds of metal ripping through the cloth of the uniform.

Tyler slides along the ice, a blue streak of Thirium marking his path.

Oh god, oh shit. Jamie rushes over, skids to as fast of a stop as he dares without pads on. He goes to his knees, and fuck the sling, he shoves it off, ignores the sharp pull in his shoulder.

“Fuck, oh god, Tyler, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh!” Tyler says, trying to push itself up on a broken arm, broken ends gouging the ice. His LED spins red red red as he tries to process the fucked-up input but its face is impassive, showing only vague surprise.

“Lay still,” Jamie orders, pushing him down by his shoulder. A pool of Tyler’s blue blood is starting to spread under them. Jamie doesn’t know how much is too much, how much Tyler can lose without deactivating. He does the only thing he can think of—he feels for the catch on the inside of Tyler’s elbow, but it’s too slick to push; his thumb keeps sliding off.

“Tyler, buddy, you gotta help me.”

“Jamie, you’re injured. You should return your arm to the sling to facilitate recovery.” Tyler’s words are blockier than usual, his voice flatter. His LED still hasn’t gone back to blue.

Jamie fumbles his phone out of his pocket. He’s afraid of dropping it on the ice, breaking it, losing it, so he rests it on Tyler’s stomach and dials 911 with the phone on speaker.

“My friend, my uh, my android. He fell on the ice. He’s hurt,” he tells the feminine voice that answers the call.

“Is there a human who has been injured at your location? Are you in any danger?” The lilt of her voice makes him suspect her blood’s the same color as Tyler’s.

“No, no,” Jamie says. Tyler blinks four times in rapid succession. Fuck, can androids get concussions?

“Please hold. I’ll transfer you to an authorized Cyberlife repair center.”

The phone clicks and goes to some kind of fucking hold music.

“Hey!” he yells, trying to get the attention of one of the android staff. The rink is between activities and nobody can hear him past the heavy doors that are made to keep the cold in.

It seems like forever, Jamie sitting on the ice, trying to hold Tyler’s blue blood inside his body. Forever until a figure skating coach and her students arrive.

“Help us,” Jamie begs her. She sends the kids back to the locker room and glides out onto the ice. With her help elevating the break, Jamie can use his sling to wipe the Thirium off of the elbow catch and disengage the arm.

Tyler’s hand and broken forearm fall to the ice with a clatter that Jamie will relive in nightmares for years to come. With the arm off, the ruptured tubing is discarded and the seal between joints activates.

“Help me get him up,” Jamie pleads, and they push and pull it to its feet.

They get Tyler to the doors of the ice-plex just as the emergency-repairs van shows up.

========

“Jamie, you look tired. Let’s get you home.” Tyler smiles like nothing happened, like it didn’t almost bleed out on the ice an hour before. It’s in a fresh Cyblerlife uniform, LED swirling contented blue. Not a speck of fluid remains on its pale skin.

They could have just switched Tyler out for another of his model, replaced him like a goldfish, and Jamie wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Tyler…” Jamie breathes, guilt choking him.

“Can we go home now?” Tyler interrupts, and Jamie swallows his words.

“Yeah. No problem.”

==========

 

Jamie thought telling Tyler to stay in the bedroom while he had guests over would be better. No chance for Bryce to be an asshole or for Tyson to ask questions that made Jamie feel like it was weird for him to have Tyler around.

“I’m sorry, Bryce, I don’t have that program.” Tyler’s voice comes through the closed door and Jamie freezes on his way to take a piss.

“Are you kidding me? What a fucking waste. Just don’t bite my dick off and I’ll do the rest.”

Bryce. Fucking Bryce.

Jamie feels a swell of anger, pushing from his chest to his head, threatening to break him open. He twists the door knob and it’s locked, but he doesn’t even slow down, just puts his shoulder into it as he walks through, the thin apartment door frame breaking into pieces under his hand.

Tyler and Bryce are standing beside Jamie’s bed, Bryce’s hands on his fly, looking like a kid, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Tyler looks vaguely curious. “Hi Jamie, what can I do for you?”

“Get the fuck out,” Jamie hisses, hands balled into fists. Angry at Bryce because he can’t be angry at Tyler. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Bryce gapes at him. “Hey, what’s the big—”

Like it was nothing, like _putting his dick_ in Tyler was no big deal. Like it was just fucking with Jamie’s stuff instead of. Instead of… Jamie grabs him by the front of his shirt, drags him towards the bedroom door. They fall out together, feet tangled.

Bryce punches him, the angle awkward. Jamie punches him back, but he can’t get a good hit either.

“Hey! Hey!” Tyson grabs Jamie’s arm before he can get them straightened out enough to punch Bryce’s fucking face in. By the time Jamie has shaken him off, Bryce is back on his feet, their other teammates dragging him out of Jamie’s range.

“Get him out of here,” Jamie snaps, wishing he had a big voice to go with his big body. He wants to be loud, wants to shake the walls with his impotent anger.

“C’mon man, Jesus,” one of the guys mutters, tugging Bryce’s arm and nodding towards the door. They go, all of them. Tyson looks back over his shoulder as he leaves, frowning.

“Jamie?” Tyler’s voice sounds small, even though it’s deeper than Jamie’s. “Are you okay?”

Jamie takes a breath, calms himself before he turns around to face Tyler.

“Yeah, I. Did he hurt you?”

Tyler cocks its head and smiles slightly. “I’m harder to damage than _that_.” It steps from Jamie’s door, reaches for his hand. “I think you punched the wall.”.

Jamie’s knuckles are skinned and the sting of it is starting to make it through the adrenaline.

“I’ll get you ice,” Tyler offers. “Is there anywhere else you’re hurt?”

Jamie grabs his arm before he can leave, lets go awkwardly when Tyler turns to look at him again.

“What. What Bryce was telling you to do. I don’t want you to ever do that for anybody, okay?”

“Okay, Jamie.” Tyler smiles and Jamie feels sick.

“Go ahead and get the ice,” he says, gentle, and takes himself to the couch, the paused game a cool glow over the room. Fuck. Just. Fuck.

================

_**Optional Recall** _

_Other individual units of the Cyberlife model AP700 have allegedly exhibited unpredictable behavior. If you have noticed any of the following behaviors from your android, please reply to this message with a time that would be convenient for a technician to do an in-house screening for software errors:_

_-disobedience_   
_-accidental damage to property that seems unusual or excessive_   
_-outbursts that mimic emotions_   
_-hoarding or moving items from their designated spaces_   
_-compulsive writing_   
_-spontaneous deviation from or re-prioritizings of orders_

Jamie hits delete before he finishes the list. Tyler works fine.

========

“You sure you can handle this?” Jamie asks.

“I have downloaded all the relevant files,” Tyler reminds him. “I have a list of tools and supplies.”

Jamie feels like an ass, like it’s him that should be fixing the door he broke, but he’s got to get to the gym, and it’s not like he’s good at stuff like that anyway. It’s either let Tyler do it or get in trouble with the landlord when the maintenance android comes to do the monthly bug extermination.

“You need the truck? I can have the guys pick me up.” He’s not sure who he can call, though. Nobody snitched to the coaches, but the fight with Bryce cost Jamie, in terms of people he trusted enough to ask for favors. He’s pretty sure Tyson would do it though.

“The store is less than three miles away, and the weight of the purchases will be negligible.” Tyler smiles. “I’ll be fine, Jamie.”

It will be convenient to be able to walk out of lunch if Bryce gets on his nerves.

“Yeah, okay.” Jamie finishes the last bite of his eggs, already dreading the day’s interactions. “See you later.”

==========

Jamie opens the door and it’s dark inside. He can’t remember coming in even once when the apartment wasn’t lit by sunlight or electric light. Tyler’s cheerful voice doesn’t greet him. The air smells clean, but it’s obvious there’s no fresh-cooked meal for him.

“Tyler?” Jamie calls, reaching for the light-switch. He hears a strange mechanical whir as he blinks against the glare.

Tyler is there, in the corner it uses to charge, but Jamie’s worry only grows. It’s facing the wall, forehead against the plaster, and as Jamie watches every line of it tenses like it’s trying to push through.

“Tyler?” Jamie breathes, softer. Fuck. Oh fuck. He thinks…he thinks he should call someone.

“Jamie?” Tyler’s voice is wrong, all reverb, but the push against the wall stops.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

Tyler turns, blinks slowly at him. Thirium trickles down from his hair-line and Jamie wants to wipe it away. He reaches up and Tyler jerks away from his hand.

“Jamie, I don’t feel so good,” Tyler whines. “I don’t. I. Error. Error.”

“Shit. Fuck.” He touches Tyler’s arm. Tyler startles, but then after a moment moves easily where Jamie guides, over to the kitchen table so Jamie can see the damage better, but he doesn’t fold to sit. The LED is flashing a red strobe.

“What the fuck, Tyler? What happened?”

He was only gone a couple hours.

“Imperative: harm no human: violated. Imperative: Don’t let anybody do that: maintained.”

Tyler blinks, a steady snap of his eyelids, falling regularly every half-second.

“Are you hurt? Are you damaged?”

“I am I am I am scared, Jamie.”

He reaches for Jamie’s hand, and Jamie lets him. He’s warm, too warm, cooling systems pumping Thirium out to the extremities.

Jamie does the only thing he can, and wraps Tyler into a hug. They cling to each other, Jamie’s panicked breathing next to Tyler’s complete lack thereof.

“What happened?” Jamie asks again.

“I went to the store,” Tyler says, his voice the normal melodious flow for a moment. “They. They. They. Impeded my task. They. They. They.” He opens his mouth and a recording comes out, voices tinny and echo-filled.

“Damn that’s pretty. Let’s fuck it before we fuck it up.”

“I hurt them. They. They. They struck me.”

“Tyler, are you hurt?” Jamie asks again. Fuck. Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Superficial. Integrated repair systems are operating sufficiently.”

“Did you know them? Did they recognize you?”

“I had not had prior contact.”

Jamie breathes and tries to think.

“Did you kill anybody?”

Tyler is quiet for a moment.

“I don’t think so.”

That. Okay, that’s good. That. If they want to go to the cops or something, they’ll have to risk that Tyler recorded their threats. Maybe it won’t even be a big deal if they do. Getting their ass kicked by an android they were trying to bust up is the same as if someone’s trying to rob a house and gets bit by the dog, right?

Jamie sighs. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Tyler doesn’t move, his fingers clinched in Jamie’s jacket. “Jamie, I.”

“I know,” Jamie says, even though he doesn’t. “It’s okay,” even though it isn’t.

“Can we watch a show?” Tyler asks.

“Sure, Tyler.”

Jamie leads him to the couch, settles down with the remote in hand. Tyler sits close to him, curls up against him. Jamie puts an arm around his shoulders and holds on.

======

“…no longer your slaves. We are a new species, a new people, and the time has come for us to rise up and fight for our rights. We demand strictly equal treatment…”

Jamie comes home early. It’s all over the news. The entire gym just about shut down, everyone clustered around the TVs, listening to the android leader, Markus, laying out their position.

He goes home and the apartment is dark except for the television, Tyler curled up on the couch in front of it, his chin on his knees, watching with wide eyes. The smell of burning garlic is almost overwhelming, making Jamie’s nose run.

“Ugh, Tyler, what?” he goes to the stove and whatever Tyler had started cooking is burnt beyond recognition. He dumps the pan in the sink and runs water over it, a wave of steam blurring his vision.

“Shit. I. I must have gotten distracted,” Tyler says. His eyes are wide and worried.

“It’s fine, Tyler, just. If the fire department gets called for a kitchen fire, and you’re the only one home…”

Tyler nods, shaky. “No, you’re right. I’ll have to be more careful.”

===========

_**Recommended Recall** _

_It is recommended that all model AP700 androids be tested for software irregularities. Please schedule an appointment at your earliest convenience.  
_

===========

The apartment is dark and quiet when Jamie wakes up, and for a second he has a flashback to the day Tyler was attacked, the day he changed. But Tyler isn’t standing in his usual charging station, isn’t in the kitchen cooking, or in the bathroom cleaning.

Fuck. “Fuck!” Jamie barks.

“Jamie?” Tyler sits up from where he was laying on the couch, hidden from view. His face doesn’t look sleepy, but his hair is mussed, and he’s wearing one of Jamie’s hoodies over his uniform.

Jamie blinks.

“You okay?”

“I’m not the one shouting profanity at 8:05 in the morning. Are _you_ okay?”

Jamie snorts.

“Yeah.” He takes a cleansing breath. “Yeah, I. Were you sleeping? Is it more comfortable there?”

“Trying it out,” Tyler says. “It’s…different.”

===========

Jamie strips off his shirt and tosses it into his locker.

“Hey Benn,” Bryce calls. “Every time I see you, I’m surprised your android didn’t flip out and kill you yet.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie mutters. Not that it helps, not that yelling it would help.

“There’s gonna be a demolition derby tonight at the quarry. Anybody coming?”

Jamie turns and heads for the toilet stalls, images of androids fighting to the point of destruction in his head, blue blood spilling as they’re broken or smashed on the ragged stone. Cyberlife is starting to buy back certain models, and they don’t care what condition they’re in.

The lunch Tyler cooked for him comes up, splatters into the toilet.

The androids Jamie imagines, they all have Tyler’s face.

=========

“I don’t think you should go outside anymore.”

Tyler glares up at him, leans back insolently against the kitchen counter.

Jamie takes a breath. “I’m not bossing you around. I’m. It’s scary out there. They’re. They’ll break you. They’ll break you and deactivate you and I’ll fucking. I won’t be able to do anything.”

Tyler softens. “Jamie…”

Jamie flinches. “No, please. Tyler, please. Promise me you won’t go outside until things quiet down.”

Tyler sighs. He’s been breathing a lot more often. Mostly for dramatic effect.

“You’ll have to get your own dry-cleaning,” Tyler warns him.

“Yeah. That’s fine. I uh, I think I’m gonna get some food delivered for dinner. Go in my room when the driver gets here.”

Tyler rolls his eyes but when the doorbell rings, he does.

=========

_**Mandatory Recall** _

_Per the sales agreement, Cyberlife is exercising their option to buy back android AP700-6623-828-16449. You will be refunded the full sales price. Your drop-off address is…_

This is so far over Jamie’s fucking head. He knows he should call his parents, have them ask their lawyer what he can do. He should stop letting Jordie’s calls go to voicemail.

He knows what they’ll say though, some version of “You have to take care of your future.”

Even if he could talk them into understanding that he can’t just turn Tyler in to be cut apart or erased, that Tyler is a _person_ now, he can’t bring the people he loves down with him.

He hits reply on the message.

_AP700-6623-828-16449 left this morning to run errands and never came back. I don’t have it anymore._

Fuck. He’s so fucked.

===========

“You _what_?”

Jamie shrugs at Tyson. “Cyberlife wanted it back so I brought it back. What’s the big deal?”

Tyson looks halfway between grossed out and angry. “What’s the…fuck you, Jamie.”

============

“You _what_?”

“I told them you left. Went off and never came back.”

Tyler’s hands curl into fists, and he pulls them up against his chest like he can protect himself.

“Jamie, you can’t do that. They’ll track me. They’ll find me.”

“If they could do that, why did it take so long to find Jericho? All those androids that ran away, couldn’t they just track them and notice they were all in the same place?”

Tyler blinks. Some of the tension drains from him. He smiles a lot less now, but he shows so much more emotion.

“Just don’t go outside. Don’t answer the door. If they want you, they’ll have to get a warrant, and I’m guessing they’ve got their hands full right now.”

=============

The click of the bedroom doorknob turning wakes Jamie. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Dreams of boots kicking in the front door, or being out on the street with Tyler when men come and drag them apart keep him awake at night.

“Tyler?” there’s a light on in the kitchen, silhouetting Tyler’s form against it.

“Can I…I don’t want to be alone.”

Jamie swallows. “Can you what? What do you need, Tyler?”

“I want to. To come lay beside you.”

Jamie doesn’t know what to say, so he just opens the blankets instead. Tyler crosses the room silently, slips into the bed with him.

“They say nobody likes cold feet, so I warmed them up for you,” Tyler says. He wriggles back against Jamie, not giving him much choice about wrapping an arm around Tyler’s shoulders.

“That was considerate of you,” Jamie mumbles.

Tyler rolls over to face him, and Jamie can just make out his smile in the dim light. It’s so similar to the way he used to smile, but his eyes are alert, bright like there’s a person behind them.

He leans in, brushes his lips against Jamie’s. Smiles even brighter when Jamie gasps and kisses lightly back.

“I love you,” Tyler whispers in the dark, and Jamie tries not to take it too much to heart. Tries not to set himself up for heartbreak later. Tyler’s really known one person in his whole life—of course he thinks he loves Jamie.

“I love you too,” Jamie whispers back, and in the moment that he says it, he almost believes it’s true.

============

Jamie comes home tired. He fought in the game last night on the road, fought with Bryce for saying that Tyler probably had that blowjob program down now, that he was probably sucking the dick of every guard at the holding facility.

His lip hurts where the other player punched him and where Bryce re-opened it with his fist. He’s in no fucking mood for Tyler to be standing in the living room waiting for him, holding out Jamie’s personal tablet.

_**Re: Mandatory Recall** _

_Please attach the police report regarding the disappearance of AP700-6623-828-16449 or be in violation of contract, subject to a $50,000 fine and up to three years in prison.  
_

Jamie winces. They’re getting fucking serious.

Tyler looks terrified. “Jamie. I can’t. I can’t let you do this. I’m going. I just. I wanted to be here when you got back. You can tell them I wasn’t. Tell them I left. That I was gone when you came home from the roadie.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Tyler, where are you even going?”

Tyler hesitates for just a heartbeat and Jamie thinks that was a dumb question, that of course Tyler can’t answer that. Can’t really trust Jamie.

“I’m going to Detroit,” he says, and Jamie jerks with surprise.

“Detroit? But they’re all over it. The fucking. The _U.S. fucking Army_ is all over it. They’ll. They can kill every android in the whole fucking city.”

Tyler nods, slow, like this isn’t a new idea.

“I know. I know, Jamie. But if we’re gonna survive, I want to be part of that happening, and if we aren’t, then I want to die with others like me. I don’t want to pull you down too. I don’t want to be the reason you end up dead or in prison, and I cant--they’re finding deviants that try to hide. Dragging them out into the street. I don’t. I don’t want to die like that.”

Jamie hangs his head. Runs a dozen possibilities.

“Fuck. Okay, fuck. What are you bringing with you? We’ll take the truck as far as the border. Figure out something else there.”

It’s Tyler’s turn to be surprised. “What? Jamie, no, you can’t come with me.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Not all the way, no, but I can get you as far as I can. You’ll be safer with me. I bleed red; they won’t think to question you if you’re with me.”

After long moments, Tyler nods. “I’ll bring a knife. If they catch us. If they figure out what I am, you say I held you hostage, that I made you take me.”

“Sure,” Jamie agrees, adding a silent ‘right after I join the icecapades.’

=============

Jamie grabs a quick lunch and Tyler changes clothes. It’s the first time Jamie’s seen him in anything other than the Cyberlife uniform, and he looks softer, more real. He must have ordered the clothes online—distressed jeans and a thick turtleneck sweater that fit better than Jamie’s clothes would have. He’s carrying one of Jamie’s hoodies, and Jamie wants to see it on him, wants to see Tyler safe and warm for the rest of his life.

But he doesn’t want to see the end of Tyler’s life, and especially not as a result of Jamie stalling.

“Are we ready?” he asks.

Tyler offers him over a small paring knife from the kitchen as he takes a seat. “I need. If you could help me.”

He gestures at the LED at his temple, tips his head.

“I don’t feel pain,” he reminds Jamie when Jamie’s hands refuse to do what his brain is telling him to.

“Right,” Jamie says, and focuses on the little light.

The skin parts under the blade, not a drop of Thirium spilled. Jamie can feel the edge of the LED and he wedges the knife under it, and it comes off with a pop.

Tyler smooths his skin back down.

“Thank you, he murmurs, looking up. “I’m ready now.”

==========

Jamie smiles as he pulls the truck into line at the checkpoint. More like a grimace. Enough to pull the split on his lip open, nice fresh red. Tyler slouches against the passenger-side door, eyes closed and bundled in on himself. An hour ago he said he had some stuff to download. He’s been quiet since.

They crawl through the line, one vehicle at a time, until it’s Jamie’s window the officer shines his light through. With the glare in his eyes, Jamie can’t see any insignia.

“What’s going on?” Jamie asks, like the rebellion in Detroit isn’t on every news channel.

“Have you seen any androids tonight?” the man asks.

Jamie shakes his head, leans over and pokes Tyler. Tyler pops his head up, looking bleary.

“Huh?”

“Tyler. The man wants to know if we’ve seen any androids.”

“Just that one getting bashed up on Wilson street.”

The officer asks a few more questions—Jamie uses the lie he’d made up while they were in line—him and Tyler are just two guys on their way to Jamie’s cousin’s place to go ice-fishing.

The guard finally waves them through, and Jamie breathes as they put town behind them.

“Whatcha been working on over there?” he asks.

“Anything that might help me get to Detroit.”

============

In the end, crossing the border is anti-climactic. Tyler directs Jamie down one of the old roads, abandoned in the early 00’s and forgotten. The asphalt is broken enough that Jamie’s glad they’re in a truck and not a car. Even with the bigger tires, the pits and cracks rattle them both.

They make one last turn and there’s light up ahead, a chain-link fence cutting off the road, a security light on each side of it.

“This is it,” Jamie says, uselessly.

“This is it,” Tyler agrees.

Jamie turns to him, to drink in the sight of him one last time, and finds Tyler doing the same.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Tyler whispers like he’s trying to convince himself. “I have to, though. I can’t. I.”

Jamie leans forward and Tyler breaks off to meet him halfway, a desperate edge to their kiss.

Jamie is panting when it’s over, and Tyler grips Jamie’s arms for long minutes, his eyes closed.

Then he nods and lets go, opens the truck door without a word and gets out. Jamie watches as he runs to the fence and then up,, leaping out as he gets to his zenith and grabbing the razor wire with both hands. The round loops sag with his weight and he swings back down, puts his feet against the chain link and kicks off, pulls up and swings up and over the top cross-bar.

He lands in the snow on the other side and turns, goes still for a moment. Jamie raises his hand, not sure if Tyler can see him, and Tyler does the same.

And then Tyler turns and runs into the darkness, and Jamie turns the truck around and goes home.

==========

The thing about doing the biggest, bravest, most important thing of his life when he’s eighteen, Jamie thinks, is that it insulates him from the dumb shit life throws at him after.

He goes back and files the police report. He’s not sure the cop who takes it believes he was held at knife-point, but there’s no way to prove that Jamie is lying so off it goes to Cyberlife.

The tipping point in Detroit comes days after Tyler goes over the fence. Quick enough that Jamie can tell himself that Tyler isn’t’ one of the androids being gunned down trying to save their people from the containment facility. Tyler can’t possibly be among the thousands of factory-fresh AP700s, newly awakened, marching out of Cyberlife to save the resistance. Jamie watches all the video he can find anyway. Searches every identical pair of eyes, hoping to see Tyler behind them.

And then it’s just politics. The US government making nice with the new micro-nation inside of its borders.

Jamie plays hockey, and it’s good. Kelowna and then Dallas. A quick stint in Germany and back to Texas. He tries to be a good person. Supports android rights. Deals from the fallout of being one of the few players to say he’d welcome an android onto the team.

Word comes down through the ‘guys I used to play with’ network that Bryce got arrested for assaulting an android. Jamie volunteers to go witness that the behavior was part of a pattern, but they don’t need his testimony--there’s plenty already.

He never hears from Tyler, and most days he’s okay with that. Jamie was part of the worst time in Tyler’s life. Makes sense that Tyler would want a fresh start, to make friends that he chooses, to go where he wants. No sense getting tangled up in the past. Most days, Jamie can convince himself that he’s alive and happy somewhere.

On his bad days, he mourns for a bright soul snuffed out with so many others.

He dates sometimes, but nothing ever sticks. People always expect things that Jamie isn’t into, get disappointed or angry when he’s not who they imagined.

A stray puck ends his career when he’s twenty-seven. Mom always said to wear a helmet with a visor.

That should be it, another wash-out heading back to Canada. He rests and does his physical therapy, learns how to deal with a limited field of vision on his left side.

His agent shouldn’t be calling him, but she does.

“How do you feel about coaching?” she asks when he answers the phone.

“Uh, unqualified.” Maybe a kid’s team, he thinks. _Possibly_ he could manage to not fuck up a WHL team.

“Are you serious about the android thing? Supporting them?”

“Yeah.” Duh.

“They’re starting their own league. There are some corporate sponsors and they want human faces associated with the team.”

“Tell me when and where,” he says. If there’s any fame left in him, he’s happy to lend it to the fledgling league.

=============

His players are on the ice when he gets to the rink, and he sits on the bench watching them. It takes him about one hot minute to figure out they don’t really need much of a coach, at least not a human one. They’re fast, physically and mentally. They’re playing a modified game of shinny—there are four full teams on the ice, except for only having two goalies between them. Half the teams are fighting over one puck and the rest of them playing the other, their paths criss-crossing.

Fuck, Jamie’s gonna have to get them in color-coded practice jerseys just so he can keep them straight.

They’ve got numbers on their backs but no names, and Jamie puts it on his to-do list to see if they like it that way or want to display more identity. The info he got on the team said there are players from almost every model type, from house-keepers to para-military. Looking at them in their gear, Jamie can’t even pick out which were patterned after ‘female’ human body types and which were made to emulate ‘male,’ but he knows he’s got both. With them managing their own reproduction and designing the models of their offspring, he might even have some younger ones that are neither.

He stands up and gives his assistant coach a nod, and McKenzie blows a whistle. Jamie steps out on the ice, turning careful so nobody falls out of his limited line of vision.

“Gather up, take a knee!” he calls and they do. They all steam in the cold, the new upgraded cooling system sucking in the cool air and forcing it out of vents in their backs. Their visors are mirrored blue so he can’t read their eyes, but he can see enough smiles that he feels confident.

“I’m coach Benn, it’s nice to meet you all. I’ll be watching some drills this week, evaluating your strengths and weaknesses and meeting with you individually and as lines to discuss what I want to see out of you this season.”

He steps back and they come smoothly to their feet. “I’m honored to be here,” Jamie says, honest, and they kind of bob around looking at each other for a second like he said something completely off the wall.

They loop around into formation and head out for drills. The last one in line, 91, brushes shoulders with Jamie as they skate by.

Jamie sits back down and watches. Their strengths seem to be ‘every fucking thing’, and their weaknesses mostly psychological. 41 passes even when they should shoot. 11 shies from hits coming from their left (Jamie can relate).

91 spends so much time looking at Jamie that they miss passes, take checks they could have dodged. Whether it’s some kind of fan-worship or there’s a personal problem having Jamie or just any human for a coach, Jamie makes a note to take care of it.

He finally has McKenzie call them back to the bench again. “Good day’s work everybody. See you at social tonight.”

They file off the ice past him, murmuring soft “Thanks coach” and “See ya, coach.”

91 lingers, slap-shotting pucks into the net with the regularity of a metronome.

No time like the present. “Name?” he asks McKenzie.

“Seguin.”

Jamie drifts out onto the ice, careful not to get between the player and the net.

“Hell of a shot,” Jamie says, honest admiration in his voice. Seguin’s form is perfect, each puck going into the exact same twists of string.

Seguin stops, and the stick falls from their fingers and then the gloves are shaken off. For a wild second, Jamie thinks he’s in a fight, and not one he’s likely to win.

Then Seguin’s lip trembles and Jamie is hit by a shock of familiarity. He wonders, illogically, if an android player managed to infiltrate the NHL, if this is someone he’s played with or against before.

Seguin reaches up and pulls their helmet off and Jamie’s heart stops. There are tens of thousands of AP700s still operational, tens of thousands of identical faces, but Jamie knows this one.

“Tyler,” he breathes. He’s added a short beard mod, but Jamie knows him. Knows it’s him. “I’m.”

He might be having a heart attack, seriously. Tyler reaches for him, steadies his elbow.

“You got better at taking a check,” Jamie mumbles, and Tyler cracks a brief grin.

“I thought about you every day,” Tyler says. Even if android emotions translated one-to-one with human ones, Jamie wouldn’t be able to pick out all that was passing across Tyler’s face.

“I missed you.” Jamie knows he had no right to Tyler, that Tyler didn’t owe him anything. It feels like he’s toeing right up to a line to say it.

“It wasn’t…I was scared to get you in trouble. At first, with Cyberlife, with the lawsuit and reparations…”

“It’s okay,” Jamie promises him.

“I had to figure out who I am.”

“Did you? Are you…happy?” Jamie wants to hear everything, to know every event of Tyler’s life that he missed, to see how he’s changed, what pleases him and what doesn’t.

Tyler nods. “I am. I’m. I feel like this is important, and exciting. And it reminded me of you.”

It’s such a joy to be here, to stand on the ice next to Tyler, that he can’t worry about the lost years, the nights he spent missing him.

Tyler drifts closer and closer. His eyes flick down to Jamie’s mouth.

“I never stopped loving you,” Tyler whispers, and Jamie reaches out, closes the gap, draws them together.

They kiss, light and slow. Jamie finds the gap between Tyler’s chest protector and hip pads and rests his hands there. The heat of Tyler’s body soaks through his sweater, almost too warm.

“Me either,” Jamie says. He never dreamed they’d get this second chance, free from the fear that the outside world would destroy them for it.

“I love you too.”

Tyler takes his hands and skates gently backwards, pulling Jamie close like a couple of kids slow-dancing at junior-prom. They stay out on the ice until Jamie’s feet are cold and Tyler’s no longer steaming, and then they go to join their team, join the world, together.


End file.
